Tales of the Wolf: Book 01 - The Coming of the Wolf

by A. E. McCullough

  The cyclops clasped forearms with the dark elf, his huge hand swallowing the elf’s slender arm. “Well met. I am Grunk Nightslayer.”

  Darnac raised an eyebrow as he turned back to his meal. “Interesting surname you have, family title?”

  Grunk shook his head. “Nay, in my youth I was bold and reckless. I once fought a black dragon, hence the name.”

  “You make it sound so nonchalant, like killing a dragon is an everyday thing.”

  Grunk shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t like to brag, it lessens the deed.”

  “I agree but that is very different from many of your brethren. Thantos constantly brags on his prowess as a warrior.”

  Grunk stiffened at the mention of his father’s name but tried not to show his discomfort. Instead, he took a long swig of his mead. “I just don’t like to talk of my past.”

  “I can understand that my large friend. My past haunts me daily and I too do not like to discuss it.” Darnac gestured to those around him. “Of course, I have very few people to converse with.”

  “Why is that?” Grunk asked as he set down his mug. “I have seen several of your kin wandering around here.”

  “I don’t associate with them; or should I say, they don’t associate with me.”

  Grunk could tell that there was more to that story but didn’t know how to broach the subject. So, he remained silent.

  After several minutes of silence, Darnac spoke in a soft whisper. “My honor is my life. I gave my word to serve and so serve I shall. Unfortunately, my services led me to this place.” Shaking his head to clear away the melancholy thoughts, Darnac forced a smile and asked, “You in camp long?”

  Finishing his bowl of stew Grunk said, “Only for another day or so, then I must head back out. You?”

  “I am here as long as my mistress remains.”

  Grunk gestured to the surrounding messhall. “You eat here often?”

  “Nay. My mistress is entertaining a guest, so I had a few hours of free time. I miss the underworld, so in my spare time I like to wander the caverns beneath the fortress. They are vast and largely unexplored. I can see why Haldar built his fortress in this location.”

  “Haldar?”

  “The dwarven hero who built the fortress above almost a millennia ago,” Darnac explained.

  “I didn’t realize that these ruins were that old.”

  “Yes, they have a long history and are quite extensive.” Finishing his stew, Darnac changed the subject. “Are you going to the games tomorrow night?”

  Not really knowing what the dark elf was talking about, Grunk decided to play it off and shrugged. “If my duties allow, why?”

  Darnac took a long swig of his ale. “It should be good sport. A couple of elves and a dwarf were captured by some goblins. It seems that Blackfang has declared that they shall fight in the arena to entertain the troops. It’s my guess they will fight nightly until they die in the Pit.”

  Grunk felt his heart quicken at this news but he forced himself to stay calm. “Sounds interesting but speaking of duties, I should get back.” Standing, Grunk picked up his large helmet from the table. “Thanks for the company Darnac.”

  Also standing, the dark elf offered his hand once more. “The pleasure was mine Grunk. You are a rare individual.”

  Returning the handshake, Grunk walked out of the messhall and into the enemy camp but now he was armed with some knowledge that might actually help him achieve his goal.

  * * * * *

  Khlekluëllin strained to see through the small window of his cell door. He had heard the gnomes coming long before he saw them and he could smell them long before that. Peeking through the small opening, he watched as three gnomes dragged his unconscious brother down the prison hall.

  Judging from the blood dripping down the side of Mortharona’s face, they must’ve beaten him severely during this latest torture session. The lead guard opened the cell door across the hall before stepping aside while the other two gnomes deliberately threw Mortharona against the back wall. The dark haired elf landed in a lump and didn’t move.

  Concern for his twin brother overcame his caution and Khlekluëllin called out. “Mortharona!”

  He didn’t answer but the lead gnome glanced up at the blue haired elf with a toothless grin. When the jailer spoke, spit and salvia sprayed the immediate area. “Don’t cha worry! You’ll ‘ave your turn with the Dark Lady. If I was in yous boots, I’da be wishin that I died before dat day arrived.”

  Glancing down at the filthy gnome, a sense of loathing filled him. Knowing that he should keep his mouth shut, Khlekluëllin felt he had to make a comment. “Open this door and I’ll grant your wish.”

  The old gnome smacked the cell door with his club. “Yous just watch yous mouth! Just cause you ‘aves a date with the Dark Lady, don’t mean you’ll make it. Accidents do happen. Besides, no one ever says yous ‘ave to be able to walk to yous appointment.”

  Figuring that discretion is the better part of valor, Khlekluëllin remained quiet until the three guards left. As soon as they were gone, he again called out to his twin brother. “Mortharona! Mortharona!”

  There wasn’t any answer. Numerous thoughts filled his mind, most of them unpleasant. Fearing the worst, Khlekluëllin thought to himself.

  ‘What did they do to him? I guess I could try to use our link. We haven’t used it in so long, I wonder if it still works?’

  Sitting down in the lotus position, with legs crossed and his feet on top of his thighs, Khlekluëllin closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. He forced his thoughts to remain calm, as he pictured his brother’s face. With his mind’s eye, he could see the mischievous twinkle in his brother’s eyes and the sly grin he constantly wore. Softly, he mentally called out to his brother.

  ‘Mortharona! Mortharona!’

  Although he didn’t answer, Khlekluëllin slowly felt their minds connect. It was a subtle thing. It was an empathic connection they had shared since birth. Even as babies, one could feel the other’s thoughts and emotions.

  The Master Weavers had once explained it to their family as a rare and unpredictable gift. They passed it off as something to do with them being twins which to the elves are extremely rare. Khlekluëllin and Mortharona had never been able to actually send or receive directed thoughts but the Master Weavers predicted that their ability would grow with time. Their link seemed to connect their minds enough that the twins could anticipate each other’s needs and desires almost instinctively. It happened mostly in combat, when conscious thoughts were driven away and instinct took over. It was this bond which had helped them become a formidable and deadly team in battle.

  Though the link was weak, Khlekluëllin did receive several flashes of erotic images. In one, he saw Mortharona dancing in the moon light with a beautiful silver haired lady. In another, he saw the same silver haired lady dressed in black chainmail riding a large dragon with Mortharona sitting right behind her. The landscape below them all in flames and they were both laughing. There was another wave of images coming through when a deep voice broke his concentration.

  “Khlekluëllin!”

  Shaking his head to clear it of the remnants of the empathic bond Khlekluëllin answered quietly. “Yes Rjurik, what is it?”

  The old dwarf was incarcerated in the next cell and was too short to see through the window in the door. Since the cell didn’t contain anything that he could stand on, he had missed the procession of the guards. Even whispering, his deep voice echoed in the silent dungeon. “How’s Mortharona?”

  “I’m not sure. He’s alive but unconscious.”

  Smack! The sound of someone kicking a cell door resounded loudly through the quiet prison.

  “Damn those smelly, flea-bitten, worm-eating, rat-loving gnomes! They’ll be sorry when I get out of here. Cause, once I get my hands on even one of them, especially that no good, excuse of a Highlander, I’ll…”

  “You’ll what?!” came a deep voice.

  Both
Khlekluëllin and Rjurik jumped slightly at the sound of Blackfang’s voice. Moving with the grace of a wolf, smooth and unhurried, Blackfang came into Khlekluëllin’s view. He strolled down the prison hallway as if he was the master of his surroundings, which of course he was.

  He flashed the elf a dazzling smile. “I just came by for a brief visit. How do you like your new quarters? I’ve got to admit they weren’t my idea but the Dark Lady thought you might be more receptive to her questioning if you were allowed some limited movement.”

  “What did she do to my brother?”

  Waving his hands in a gesture of dismissal, he laughed slightly. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll be okay. I just found that he has a low tolerance to pain when it concerns his hands. I bet one of his greatest fears would be the loss of one. Pity, I just might have to make that happen.”

  Leaping at the door, Khlekluëllin shot his arm through the small window. Blackfang was just out of his reach. “I swear by the goddess Aurora that one day, you and I will meet in battle and one of us will not survive!”

  Blackfang grabbed Khlekluëllin’s right wrist and gave it a hard twist. Feeling the bones in his forearm shift to an unnatural position, the elf winced in pain. With a sly smile, Blackfang moved closer to the cell door and lowered his voice until it was just barely a hoarse whisper. “That my friend is nothing more than a hollow threat and they don’t frighten me. Besides, after tomorrow night you will be in the spirit world with your father.”

  Releasing his grip, Blackfang turned away and strode down the hall. His voice echoed out of the darkness. “Get some sleep. You’re going to need all your strength for tomorrow’s battle.”

  Gingerly pulling his arm back through the window, Khlekluëllin cursed himself out loud. “Damn it! I know better than that! Never let your anger get the better of you!”

  Rjurik’s deep voice broke in. “Are you all right?”

  Khlekluëllin flexed his arm, “Yes. My arm will be a little sore but I’ll be alright.’

  “Good. We’re going to have to work together if we are to escape. What do you think Blackfang has planned for us?”

  “I’m not sure but judging from his words and what I have overheard from the gnomes, he has set up an arena in something they call the Pit. I suspect that he will have us fight night after night until we die.”

  “Unless he stacks the odds against us, hmm…five to one or better, he will be disappointed. I haven’t seen anything around here that should give us much of a challenge.”

  “That’s today. We’re already tired. Imagine fighting day after day, we will get worn down and injured. I doubt they will give us the time to heal, so eventually we will fall in battle. The odds favor Blackfang.”

  “True but at least we will get a chance to take a few of them out before we die.”

  “There is truth in that.” Khlekluëllin stretched out on the cell floor. There was just enough room for his lanky frame. “Now, get some sleep. We’ll figure out our escape tomorrow when Mortharona wakes up.”

  Stretching out, Rjurik laid down on the dirt floor of his cell. “Agreed, there is always tomorrow. And as long as we have a tomorrow, then there is hope.” Closing his eyes, he quietly spoke to the rock wall that divided him from his companions. “Good night my friend.”

  “Good night, Rjurik.” Closing his eyes, Khlekluëllin tried to sleep but his mind kept returning to the images he saw in Mortharona’s mind. What do they mean? Who is that silver haired lady? And what is he doing riding a damned dragon over a flaming battlefield? He pondered these thoughts for several minutes before the veil of sleep washed over him.

  * * * * *

  Leaning back from her enchanted pool, Lalith stretched lazily. Her lithe body was taut with the exertion, showing off her firm breasts and tight stomach. The weak firelight reflected off her ebony skin and silver hair giving her an unearthly appearance. Blackfang growled appreciably at her display. Flashing him a dazzling smile, Lalith leaned across the granite stones of the scrying pool to kiss the large barbarian. “Thank you for the complement.”

  Glancing down the front of her silk robe, he grinned. “No, thank you for the view.”

  Turning back to the pool, she pointed at the images of the three captives. “Do you now see the importance of their escape?”

  Blackfang’s smile quickly became a scowl. “Yes I do but I don’t like it!”

  Keeping her face away from Blackfang, she grimaced at her next actions. Taking a deep breath, she put on her sweetest face and turned back to the warrior. “But we don’t have to like all our duties given to us by Clotho; we just have to do them.”

  Blackfang rubbed his chin. “Agreed. What is it you wish for me to do?”

  Clapping her hands together, she leaned quickly over and kissed him again. “What I have in mind is rather simple, be yourself. The angrier they become at you, the more effective the spell becomes. Their anger is the focus for the spell.”

  “That’s simple enough. I’ll just torture them again.”

  Lalith shook her head. “You cannot.”

  Freezing for a moment, Blackfang glared at her. “What do you mean I can’t?”

  Walking up behind him, Lalith seductively caressed Blackfang’s chest. “We need for them to escape alive and relatively unharmed.”

  Quivering with excitement from her touch, he leaned back as she ran her tongue down his chest. Blackfang struggled to keep his mind on the subject at hand. “What did you have in mind?”

  Moving around in front of the large barbarian, Lalith let fall her black silk robe. Kneeling down between his legs, she gently stroked his manhood and rubbed it against her breast.

  “Let them escape during the games. It can’t seem too easy though or they will suspect something.” Reaching down with both hands, she put her lips firmly around his manhood.

  Leaning his head back, Blackfang enjoyed the intense feeling of her actions. After a few moments, Blackfang grunted. “If that is what you wish my dear, then that is what you will get.”

  Pausing for a moment, Lalith smiled at her easy victory. Going back to the task at hand, she projected her thoughts to her familiar. ‘That was too easy. This barbarian is so easy to manipulate.’

  She felt Jinx’s thoughts in the back of her mind. ‘He might be easy to manipulate but I am sure he’s enjoying your actions more than you are?’

  Suddenly, she felt Blackfang’s hands on the back of her head, forcing her to go deeper. She braced herself for what she knew was coming. A few scant seconds later, Blackfang climaxed. Forcing herself to relax, she swallowed. It was bitter and took all of her self-control not to gag.

  Blackfang lay back with a sigh of relief and groaned. “That was wonderful!”

  Taking a deep breath, Lalith nodded. “Yes my love, it was.” As she watched him close his eyes, she shot a mental retort at Jinx. ‘This barbarian is a terrible lover! By Clotho, why does she need this brute? And why do I have to please him?’

  Her familiar’s soothing voice came floating back over their mental link. ‘Clotho knows that she needs him to defeat the Highlanders and so do we. One day soon, we won’t need him anymore and then you can dispose of him. Until then, humor him. Besides, he isn’t the worst lover you’ve ever had; he’s just not the best.’

  Lalith couldn’t help but snicker at Jinx’s last remark.

  Blackfang opened his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

  Thinking quickly, Lalith moved so she was lying next to him on the bear skin rug. “I was just thinking of the look on Queen Circe’s face when her twin sons come home with the news of the death of her consort and her daughter. I was just wishing I could be there for that.”

  “I might not be able to grant that wish but I can guarantee you the chance to meet the queen, face to face.”

  Burying her face in Blackfang’s chest, Lalith hid her amused expression as she fired a mental blast at Jinx. ‘This barbarian thinks he’s going to conquer the Elven Empire! I doubt he can even conquer the Highlands! He�
��s an uncouth bastard and I hate him!’

  Jinx’s soothing voice came back once again over their mental link. ‘Calm yourself Mistress. Let the damn fool dream. He will be useful to us, no matter if he wins or not. Just remain calm and play his feelings to our advantage.’

  Lalith could hear the wisdom in her familiar’s voice. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed in Blackfang’s arms; content at the moment that everything was going according to her plan.

  Closing her eyes she fell asleep. The last thing she remembered was the look of Mortharona’s firm and naked body lying next to her own naked body.

  Chapter 13

  Tatianna looked out at Itasca, the northern village of the highlanders, with undisguised awe. She was expecting a small grouping of ramshackle huts and tents; instead she found a mountain fortress.

  The entrance to the barbarian city was still several hundreds of feet above her on the side of a lone mountain. Their approach would take them down the side of the ridge and across a small valley before reaching the trail that wound its way up the mountainside. Not much of the city could be seen from her vantage point, other than the massive timber walls and the gate that blocked the entrance into the city. The rest of the mountain was covered in a heavy cloud.

  The snow was not as deep on the backside of the ridge but as they reached the valley floor the icy wind once more howled in fury at them, blowing the snow all around them. Hawkeye moved ever more slowly as he struggled to pull her up the mountain. Tatianna could see in the dim moonlight that the trail was actually a road carved out of the mountainside and paved with cobblestones. It contained several switchbacks as they climbed higher and higher. As they rounded one of the switchbacks, a single shrill horn rang out. The massive gates were closed but all along the ramparts she could see the movement of numerous heavily furred warriors, fully armed and ready for combat.

  Fires burned like beacons in the twin wooden watchtowers that flanked the massive gate. As they reached the landing in front of the entrance, Hawkeye collapsed. As Tatianna struggled to extricate herself from the travois, the gate opened a crack and several warriors rushed out. They were all grim faced and armed, most carried bows but a few were armed with long spears. The first to reach them was a young warrior dressed in black wolf furs. Taking in the scene before him, the warrior barked a command in a strange language which Tatianna didn’t understand.